Eyes: Night
by mochiinvasions
Summary: His eyes were shining brightly in the night as their bodies moved together.


**Title:** Night  
><strong>Author: <strong>AkaYuki2106  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Spain/Romano  
><strong>Summary:<strong> His eyes were shining brightly in the night as their bodies moved together.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Kissing, provocative dancing, and for grammar nerds (-PC-) run on sentences.  
><strong>Soundtrack:<strong> "Heartbreak" by M'Black and "I Like It" by Enrique Iglesias.  
><strong>Info:<strong> Fourth part of 'Eyes', two more after this. Turns out I am unable to write Spamano without a modicum of provocative-ness. Well.

* * *

><p>Romano looked around at the dark night, hot and throbbing with music. People were all around him, dancing and talking and enjoying themselves. He was sitting down, firmly held around the waist by Antonio, whose lap he was currently sitting on. The Spaniard was happily engaged in conversation and the hand that wasn't clamped around him was holding a bottle of some drink that was mostly empty, not that he was affected much. Drinking only really affected the Spaniard if consumed in copious amounts, and really, he wasn't that bad when he was drunk. Not that he sort of enjoyed it or anything. Not at all.<p>

He took a swig of his own drink and remembered exactly why t was so full in comparison. He had arrived with his brother later than Spain, and having found him his mouth had been "otherwise occupied" for a good few minutes. Prussia, sitting next to them, had promptly left. His seat was soon reoccupied by France, after which Romano had hastily broken away. Spain had restrained him from leaving, turned, and happily started talking to France about something. He didn't know what it was, but it was probably perverted, knowing the two. Maybe he did want to know…sort of.

He looked around him again. It had been a night like this hadn't it? Not at this beach, but still in Spain, and the music had been different and instead of floodlights there had been lanterns, and the clothes had been different and the drinks too (his first drink, oh how grown up he felt inside) but the atmosphere was the same: party, time to let your hair down, time to dance, time to forget the world and all its troubles and simply enjoy yourself. France and Prussia hadn't been there and his brother was still in that huge stifling house and maybe that was why Spain had bought him the drinks, knowing that they weren't around to "look after" him if he got too drunk. That night Spain had taken his hand and pulled him away and in candlelight and moonlight and with the sea behind him he had said those fateful words. It was the first kiss and the first of many, and when he had become independent he still came back, day after day, because of those words.

He shook off the feeling of nostalgia and looked at the people round him. That time, everything had been more proper, dances controlled and careful, but now everyone was crushed much closer, bodies pressing against each other, moving with the music. It was some song he didn't recognise, all heavy beats and synthesizers. The air itself was hot and muggy; a sweltering Spanish summer night made worse by the bodies pushed together, but no-one really seemed to care. In fact it seemed like they all loved it.

The music died down and was replaced by some electronic pop song, this time that he recognised. There was a chorus of complaints from most of the dancers, but a gaggle of girls, clearly deciding that they would only dance to a song they knew, quickly shut them up. They were followed by a convoy of boyfriends (or admirers), and to his own surprise, Romano. He pulled Spain's hand off him as much as he could, turned on his lap and said "Come with me." He knew that Spain wouldn't resist, and true to his instincts the brunette dripped his drink and followed him to the "floor". They slipped in amongst the other people and Romano looked up with faux-shyness into Spain's eyes. The jade was even brighter that usual, shining out in the dark night, masked with love and excitement, and somewhere, not particularly hidden, lust. Well, that wouldn't do. He would just have to make them even brighter.

He placed one of Spain's hands on his waist and began slowly to twist his hips, still looking into Spain's eyes. He licked his lips and deliberately let his eyes travel down Spain's body, delighting in the thrill as the older man's hand slipped around his back and drew their bodies together. He slid one of his hands to the hem of Spain's shirt and smirked as he felt the shiver that ran through his body. Oh, he was doing his job well. Before he knew what was happening Spain's hands were tight on his and their bodies were even closer and his voice was whispering in his ear and against his skin and his eyes were smouldering and every point of contact was hotter than the other. He wrapped his arms around Spain's neck and licked his lips again, enjoying every feeling running through him. The heat of the night and the people around him and the way Spain's hips were rolling sinfully sweetly against his own. Hands around his waist forcefully turned his around and that sinful tongue was against his neck. He reached up to cup his hand around Spain's neck, fingers tangled in hair, and the other chuckled against his skin, pressing a quick kiss to his neck before hands drifted up, tickling against his chest. Not to be outdone, Romano bent down and up just as quickly, making sure to roll his hips against the other. Spain's arms were now tight against his chest, lips against his neck again and again and Romano rolled his head back, restraining a moan and twisting their hips together, seeking nothing more than more of that sweet contact, burning past his clothes through to his skin, under the moon's light, as his voice rang out amongst the many others who danced and ground and partied in the deepest night. He turned around again, hips moving quickly, smirking, licking lips again, determined to make Spain shiver like that again. Hips ground together deeper than before, and there was a subtle movement and then Spain's lips were attacking his and delving in, deep and hard, and a moan tore itself from his throat only to be swallowed by the passionate Spaniard, and he felt the other smirk against his lips. He pulled back, trying to get his breath back as the other attacked his neck again, determined to let loose the passion that had been building all night. He twisted his hands through the other's shirt and gave up all sense of trying, letting himself be swept along by those hot lips. A desperate, wanton thought came to him that he'd been lost to them a long time ago, and the thought brought a small smile to his face, not of lust but of strange happiness.

Spain drew back and took his face and his hands and whispered "What's that smile for?" Romano didn't bother replying, merely kissed him again. Spain saw no disadvantaged to this and promptly plundered his mouth again, hands slipping down to curl around his waist, and their hips were still moving together, each point of contact boiling and really, as the music faded, he thought, sin shouldn't feel this delicious.

The song ended and Lovino looked up into Antonio's eyes, chest heaving. They were bright, burning up the night, brighter than the lights that flooded the beach, than the moon that beat down bringing silence to everyone else, brighter than the day itself, suffused with love and lust and joy and a million other emotions, a million Spains, and he knew everyone one, as sure as he knew himself. The next song began, another one he knew, but before he could coerce Spain back into dancing with him, the older man grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the crowd, away from the people away from the throbbing music. They ran down the beach together, fingers entwined. They stopped a fair distance away, far enough that the music became nothing more than a single beat with some faint accompaniment, all details lost, yet near enough that it was still audible.

"What are you doing, bastard?" Romano asked, but Spain cut him off by sitting down heavily, pulling Romano down with him, so he was sitting on the soft sand and Romano was sitting on his lap, balancing on his hands. He pushed himself back, and made himself more comfortable, looking down at Spain irritably. The Spaniard brought a hand up to his cheek, caressing it softly. "You look amazing like this," he muttered. Romano blushed bright red, unused to compliments, and quietly muttered his gratitude, eyes dancing anywhere but Spain's face. Spain smiled slowly and kept his hand on Romano's cheek. The Italian found he couldn't think of anything vaguely colourful, and so closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel. He felt the warm summer night sticking to his skin and the soft breeze that came off the sea and blew spirals into the grass and mussed up his hair softly. He felt the grainy sand below his knees and Spain's comforting warmth underneath him and every point of contact between him and Spain and the way the sand slipped through his fingers. He felt Spain's hands on his cheeks, hands that had bandaged wounds and cleared up messes and wiped away tears and held him tight through endless nights. He felt Spain's lips on his forehead, feather light on each cheek, lips that pushed away pain and anger, that brought joy and love, lips that laughed and sang and smiled far far too much. In the distance he could hear music still pumping but louder now was the rush of the sea that surrounded him and his lover, and the heavy silence that surrounded the two and drew peace across their lands. Opening his eyes he looked into Spain's two green ones, loosing himself in them, in their brightness and cheerfulness, and love and lust and care. He opened his mouth and before he could think or check what he was saying the words fell out.

"I love you."

It was his first time saying it while not under the throes of passion or under duress of repeating the sentiment already spoken, and he could see the shock that played across Spain's face. He should have been embarrassed, but under a dark canopy painted with a million starts and the moon who looked on approvingly, in the hot night that hid them from the world, on that peaceful beach, out of sight of others, as Spain's lips claimed his and wiped his mind, he didn't really care. For he knew without opening his eyes, that if he looked into Spain's emerald ones, brighter than the sun and moon and stars combined, as he had from when he first saw them, and when they first exchanged words of love, that they would reflect the emotion just the same.

* * *

><p>Oh man. What is this I don't even - I'm sorry, it fails. I've never been to club and even if I had I couldn't write that style of dance well -sigh- Anyway, if you've seen my dA (LetTheWordsFlow) you may know I'm trying to finish all of my chaptered stories before the end of summer, so if you like "Library", "The First Night" or "Enchanted" look out for those. Next up should be "Enchanted" C3, if all goes well. I'm on holiday, but I still have a lot of work to do, so that may hinder me somewhat D8<p>

As for this story….well I had a lot of ideas for this, but I finally settled for this one. I was originally gonna use "Mirrors" by Natalia Kills but I have other plans involving that song, and I found it really hard so I put on EI instead. On that note, don't judge me, he's hot and the song is catchy. DEAL. Also, I'm sorry for the massive change in flow. I wanted to leave it at the sexy dancing but I needed some fluff, and I loved writing that part so I kept it in.

Aaaanyway, questions, comments, suggestions, critiques? Please leave a review on your way out! As always, thanks for beta-ing this Dem X3


End file.
